


it burned like fire, this burning desire

by warsfeil



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:14:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24517516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warsfeil/pseuds/warsfeil
Summary: In Which;the king of Rieze Maxia gets drunk and meows at cats;Alvin has to justify his interior decorating choices;a one night stand is negotiated;Alvin discovers new kinks, andGaius likes to cuddle.
Relationships: Alvin/Gaius (Tales of Xillia)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	it burned like fire, this burning desire

As far as decisions go, Alvin ranks this one solidly in the middle: not the best, but far from the worst. Drinking with the king of all of Rieze Maxia was less intimidating to him than it would be to most people, but he still wouldn’t classify it as a normal hangout. It wasn’t like they were friends, not in the same way that Gaius was with Muzét or Jude, but they were apparently at the stage where they could drink together in a bar and make small talk that was entertaining for the both of them.

They were also at the stage where they could then go back to Alvin’s apartment, and wasn’t _that_ the big surprise of the night? The flush of alcohol is a dusty rose on Gaius’ skin, and Alvin’s a little jealous, actually, because they’ve both had the same amount but Alvin’s fumbling with his keys while Gaus just stands there looking imperious and not unsteady at all. It’s an improvement from half an hour ago when they were still at the bar and Gaius was engaging in an impassioned conversation with one of the cats, conducted entirely in meows. Honestly, Alvin’s just thankful he talked Gaius out of taking the cat home with them.

“Here it is,” Alvin offers, when he finally manages to get the damn door open. He stands aside and lets Gaius go in first, and Gaius walks in like he owns the place, stopping in the main hall to glance around. Gaius gives the barest of one-overs, and Alvin recognizes it as an instinctive desire to know where everything is in case there’s an emergency, and then Gaius is taking off his coat. 

“It’s very well decorated,” Gaius says, in a voice that clearly indicates that this is a surprise to him. Alvin would be insulted, but he’s busy taking off his own coat. He hangs up his -- and Gaius’ -- because the last thing he’s going to want to worry about in the morning is ironing coats, but his shirt gets tossed onto the back of the couch.

“Yeah, I hired someone to do that,” Alvin says with a rolling shrug of his shoulder. 

“Ah,” Gaius says, nodding slightly. He misses the buttonhole at the top of his shirt on the first try, and Alvin feels very gratified that he isn’t the one one that drank entirely too much hard liquor. “That would make sense.”

Gaius’ shirt gets folded a little more delicately than Alvin’s, and he holds it on his arm, turning to Alvin with a questioning look.

“I’m not averse to using your living space, but I would prefer the bedroom,” Gaius says, and Alvin blinks.

“Right,” Alvin says, like he wasn’t fully prepared to fuck on the couch like a teenager. “Well, it’s a bit messier in there.” It doesn’t stop him from leading Gaius to the bedroom. It’s not too bad, because Alvin travels back and forth too much these days to let his spaces look much more than lightly cluttered, but he still feels the need to toe some of his dirty laundry into a slightly neater pile.

“I don’t mind the condition of your room,” Gaius says, and then pauses, rethinking his statement. “Well. I don’t mind that this is your idea of clutter. It’s… lived in.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” Alvin says. Gaius puts his shirt on the nightstand, and Alvin takes a moment to appreciate Gaius’ physique. He’s admired Gaius before, but it hasn’t ever been in the context of actually sleeping with him, so Alvin’s working on an entirely different set of responses than usual.

“I don’t usually… do this,” Gaius says, after a moment, arms crossed over his chest. He looks at Alvin, and Alvin can recognize his body posture for what it is: awkwardness instead of intentional intimidation. 

“It’s been a hot minute,” Alvin offers, aiming to reassure him. He lets his hand go back to tangle in his own hair, rubbing it a little self-consciously. When was the last time he actually had a casual encounter like this that wasn’t somehow wrapped up in work or subterfuge or getting something out of the whole thing? “I mean, you’ve had sex before, right?”

“Of course,” Gaius says, a little indignant at the idea of being in his thirties and a virgin. 

“Then it’s the same thing, but with less emotional connection,” Alvin says. “Probably.” He doesn’t know who Gaius had sex with, so he supposes it could have been less romantic and more intense rivalry gone wrong. 

“I see,” Gaius says, considering it. “Just to be certain, is there anything you _don’t_ like?”

“Don’t worry,” Alvin says, dryly, “I’m not some blushing maiden. I’ll let you know if I’m not into it.”

Gaius accepts this at face value. “Be sure that you do,” he says, and then he reaches out for Alvin’s shoulder to kiss him. 

It’s pretty nice, actually. Gaius is clearly experienced, and even if they’re both rusty, it’s a little like riding a bike, so Alvin falls into the rhythm of it without much effort. Gaius’ body is warm, and Alvin lets his hands drift over it. Gaius is considerably more well-muscled than Alvin, which reeks of unfairness, but Gaius is a king, so who knows how in-depth his workout routine is? Gaius still tastes a little like shochu, and Alvin sure hopes Gaius doesn’t mind the taste of bourbon, given what Alvin had been sipping at all night. 

Gaius pulls away, and his eyes are such an intense gaze that Alvin feels the urge to look away. He doesn’t, quite, but he lets his gaze slide vaguely to the side as he offers Gaius a smile.

Gaius opens his mouth, but Alvin interrupts it; he can’t stand the idea of anymore awkward small talk about the situation. They’ve both already agreed to this weird fling, and the more they talk the more they sober up, which is exactly what Alvin _doesn’t_ want to do right now. He doesn’t really want to think, actually, so he just sinks down onto his knees. Gaius looks surprised.

“I see,” Gaius says, and Alvin sure doesn’t like the sound of _that_ , but Gaius is dropping a hand down into Alvin’s hair, and Alvin can’t muster the energy to care when he’s laser focused on getting Gaius’ pants off. It’s not difficult, but it takes a test of dexterity that’s a little tricky when Alvin is both half-drunk and all-horny. Gaius is half-hard when Alvin slides his pants down, and Gaius obligingly allows his pants to be removed entirely and discarded carelessly onto the floor.

“You can sit on the bed,” Alvin offers, almost conversationally.

“No,” Gaius says. “No, I don’t think I will.”

Alvin’s brain starts running through scenarios, trying to guess at exactly what Gaius means, but Alvin forcibly turns his brain off by leaning in and licking a stripe up Gaius’ cock, instead. Gaius keeps his hand steady, and he’s looking down at Alvin with a look that Alvin can’t quite decode. He isn’t sure he _wants_ to, either. His relationship with Gaius is pretty complicated, and a one night stand is going to make it worse, probably, but he’ll deal with the mistakes of tonight at a later date.

Gaius’ cock is getting harder as Alvin takes it into his mouth, and Alvin is temporarily relieved to know that his skills haven’t gone that much downhill. It’s easy to fall back into the pattern of it all, and as selfish as Alvin might be on a pretty regular basis, he’s pretty fond of giving head.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually Gaius lets his fingers thread into Alvin’s hair, grasping at the strands, and Alvin groans automatically, the sensation telegraphing itself straight to his dick.

Gaius is still looking down at him with that unreadable look on his face, but his breathing is artificially deep, every exhale calculated and careful. It’s a level of control that Alvin admires, given the guy was meowing at stray cats like an hour ago, and when Alvin finally swallows him down Gaius breaks his control just enough to groan. The sound makes Alvin reach down, palm his own dick through his pants, and Gaius tightens his grip on Alvin’s hair.

“Don’t,” Gaius says, and Alvin feels an embarrassing flush of heat rocket through him. He moves his hand away, because the last thing he’s going to do is disobey the king of Rieze Maxia when he’s in a position like this -- and also because, honestly, it’s kind of hot, the way Gaius’ grip is just on the edge of pain and his voice is so commanding.

_Ugh_ , kings aren’t supposed to be this hot. Aren’t there laws against that kind of thing?

“Very good,” Gaius says, and Alvin suddenly understands with perfect clarity what the concept of a praise kink is. No _wonder_ Jude gets all flustered everytime Gaius tells him he’s done a good job. Gaius softens his grip just enough to readjust it, and when Alvin swallows him down as deep as he can go, he feels Gaius change his grip until Alvin can’t move backwards at all.

Alvin groans, because it’s hard to breathe and the only thing he can think about is the way Gaius tastes on his tongue and the fact that he’s shockingly okay with letting Gaius take charge of the entire thing. It’s kind of nice, honestly, and Alvin doesn’t want to think too deeply about that, _can’t_ think too deeply about that, not when Gaius’ grip moves just enough to hint that Alvin should be moving.

He moves. Alvin hesitates to label what’s happening as getting face fucked, but that’s definitely the spirit of it, whether or not his pride can handle it. Gaius is gentle, but commanding, in touch if not in words, and everytime Alvin manages to wring a groan out of him is its own reward. Gaius stands steady, and Alvin is a little jealous that he can stand up without his legs shaking in the slightest when he’s getting really good head. Or at least pretty good head; Alvin’s a little rusty. 

When Gaius comes, the only signal is his nails scraping across Alvin’s scalp; Alvin holds onto Gaius’ hips, not to try and hold him back, but to ground himself. He swallows, of course; he can feel himself choke a little, because the combination of Gaius’ dick down his throat and the sudden splatter of semen is pretty much a guaranteed recipe for coughing, but Gaius doesn’t move until Alvin’s eyes are watering and his chest is burning.

When Gaius pulls away, Alvin doubles the rest of the way over. He swallows down most of the urge to cough, because he knows he isn’t really choking; it just takes a few fierce breaths in through his nose to remind his body that he’s fine. 

He starts, when Gaius reaches down, trails his hand along Alvin’s cheek and down to his jaw.

“I guess I’m a little out of practice,” Alvin offers, blinking his eyes up and touching the corner of his eye. Huh, been awhile since he choked on someone’s dick so hard it made his eyes tear.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Gaius replies. He sits on the bed, finally, but it’s only so he can tug Alvin up. Alvin is a little unsteady, because _he_ hasn’t come yet and the change of position really just serves to remind him that he is achingly hard. Gaius reaches, ridding Alvin of his pants, and Alvin nearly stumbles trying to get out of them, the combination of alcohol and sex combining in his mind to make him a little less than dextrous.

“Careful,” Gaius murmurs, and it’s low and in Alvin’s ear and _fuck_ , it’s attractive. 

Honestly, Alvin was half expecting Gaius to take the blowjob and go. Alvin would have been a little disappointed, but it wouldn’t be the first time he made a bad sex call. Instead, Gaius reaches out, wrapping his hand around Alvin’s dick. It’s rough and calloused, no amount of time pretending to be a rich playboy undoing the years of sword training that Gaius has gone through, but any amount of friction feels _amazing_ , and Alvin would be a little embarrassed of the noise he makes if he wasn’t busy muffling it into Gaius’ shoulder.

“Shit,” Alvin says. It’s a handjob, it shouldn’t be so overwhelming, but Gaius moves his hand slowly, his grip sure, and Alvin trips closer until he’s resting most of his weight on Gaius.

“It _has_ been awhile, hasn’t it?” Gaius says, mostly to himself, and Alvin can feel himself flush. It wasn’t like he’d meant to talk about the relative dry spell he was experiencing, but they were both half-drunk in the bar, and it seemed like a good idea at the time.

A lot of things seemed like a good idea at the time, like taking home the king of Rieze Maxia when Alvin couldn’t remember the last time he wasn’t mostly in charge of a sexual encounter. 

“Maybe a little longer than I realized,” Alvin says, and his voice is a little shakier than he’d like. He offers Gaius a smile, one of his trademark grins. Gaius seems unmoved, but the pressure on Alvin’s cock doesn’t change. 

“Hmm,” Gaius says. He shifts his weight, and when his hand releases Alvin, Alvin’s hips buck automatically. “Get on your knees.”

Alvin’s mind has to roll through the order, for a second: not on his knees on the carpet, like he had been, but on the bed, which is something indicated to him by a gentle push on his hips when he doesn’t immediately move. Alvin can feel his cheeks flush, because this wasn’t exactly the position he expected to end up in, but it wasn’t… bad?

Shit, this was definitely going to awaken something in him.

Alvin drops onto his elbows and knees on the bed, letting his head drop down so he can partially try to hide his embarrassment in the pillows. He doesn’t know why, exactly -- Gaius doesn’t seem like the sort of person to make fun of him for it -- but he’s also not sober enough to try to decode feelings right now. Hell, he’s not sober enough for that when he _is_ sober.

“There,” Gaius says, and leans over him. He reaches around, and when he grabs Alvin’s dick this time, it’s a different position and an entirely different experience. Gaius is only half-hard, pressing against Alvin’s ass, and Alvin’s pretty relieved that neither of them seem to have the energy to sort that out, because actually just the handjob is doing a pretty good job of being mindblowing.

“Fuck,” Alvin says, instead of moaning, but his hips keep jerking into Gaius’ movements, and the feel of Gaius pressed over his back is way more of a turn on than it needs to be. He’s a hot, heavy heat, surrounding Alvin, and Alvin closes his eyes against the sheets. He falls into the rhythm of it: Gaius’ hand, the feel of Gaius’ lips on his shoulderblade, the soreness of his knees against the blankets.

When he comes, he blacks out for a second. He knows he doesn’t fall unconscious, but his brain stops processing input for a moment as it focuses entirely on the feeling, the white hot edge of orgasm that he builds to with a frantic energy and then the wrung-out, deep rooted satisfaction afterwards. He can’t remember the last time he felt an orgasm in his toes, but the aftershocks rock through him with all his nerves lightning hot.

“I hope that was within your expectations,” Gaius murmurs, and Alvin is vaguely aware that Gaius is the one carefully arranging them in the bed. He’d offer to tell him where the tissues are, but Gaius seems to have already found them, cleaning Alvin off like it’s his job, which -- fair, given Alvin swallowed all of Gaius’ come already. 

“Uh, yeah,” Alvin says. “It was pretty good, actually.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Gaius says, like it’s some trade meeting that’s just made new negotiations. He settles the blankets over them, taking ‘staying the night’ very literally. Alvin doesn’t mind.

“You’d better set an alarm if you don’t want the press to catch you doing a walk of shame,” Alvin offers.

“A walk of… what?”

“Nevermind,” Alvin says. And then pauses. “Wait, hey, are you the big spoon?”

Gaius blinks at him, pausing in his rearrangement of the pillows. “I’m bigger.”

“You’re taller by an _inch_ ,” Alvin argues. 

“Are you complaining?” Gaius asks.

Alvin hesitates. “I guess not,” he says, but it comes out a little sullen, because it seems deeply and inherently unfair that Gaius can be good at everything _and_ taller. 

“Good,” Gaius says, and closes his eyes.

Alvin tells himself that he’ll be the big spoon next time, but he falls asleep with Gaius’ hand tangled in his hair and an arm wrapped around him, and he’s pretty sure he’s lying.

**Author's Note:**

> working title of this fic was "i just really wanted to write a blowjob". so i did! and that's all that matters, in the end. i'm available on twitter @warsfeils.


End file.
